Frederic Lawrence Knowles.
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ORIGINAL POETRY
BY
FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES
$
Love Triumphant . . net $1.00
A Book of Poems
On Life's Stairway ... 1.00
A Book of Poems
Thin J2mo, cloth, gilt tops
*$*
DANA ESTES & CO.
Estes Press - - - Boston
By
Frederic Lawrence Knowles
Boston
Dana Estes & Company
Publishers
Copyright,
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
Copyright, 1905
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. X intends &> Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S.A.
GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED TO
<ZD.
301253
NOTE.
For the privilege of reprinting the verses entitled
"The Wings" and "The Sculptor," the writer is in-
debted to the courtesy of The Christian Endeavor
World. He also wishes to thank the Century Maga-
zine for the opportunity of including the lines entitled
'Roses."
CONTENTS.
NATURE AND LIFE.
NATURE : THE ARTIST ... i
MASQUES 2
A PASTURE . 3
To THE AMERICAN POET 5
WITH A COPY OF KEATS j
AN APRIL MOOD g
TlLDY IN THE CHOIR 9
CASTLES IN SPAIN I2
THE RAINBOW BAG I4
ONE OCTOBER j5
SEASONS ....... jg
THE MODERN RUTH !o
WANTED: A BOOK OF TRAVELS! ... 20
To A POET WHO LIVES IN THE PAST . .21
LITTLE REBECCAH 23
COLUMBIA 25
To THE MADONNA 2 j
TREES IN WINTER .... 28
GRIEF AND JOY 2y
LOVE'S NEST "30
THE MOON AND THE GIRL 3 i
Iz
CONTENTS.
PAGB
THE BOATMAN : SLEEP 33
WHEN THE GREAT POET COMES 34
A PATRIOT'S HYMN 36
THE GALLEON 38
THE VISION 39
ROSES 40
GOLDIE 41
A BIRTH SONG 43
LOVE'S PRAYER 44
THAT FUTURE DAY 45
To AMERICA 47
STONES 48
LITTLE HEART 49
IN DEATH'S CHAMBER 50
CHANGED 52
THE SCULPTOR 54
ONE WANING MOON 55
THE SOWER 56
METEMPSYCHOSIS 57
TRAILING ARBUTUS 58
A QUESTION FOR POETS 59
I 60
THE FLIGHT 61
A COMMON FLOWER 62
SECRETS 63
AFTER READING ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA . 64
YEARS, HURRY BY! 65
THE LOCOMOTIVE 66
THE MONTH OF MAGIC 67
THE LOST NOTE .68
WISDOM 70
CONTENTS.
PACK
THE QUESTION . 72
THE REAL AMERICA 73
ANCHORAGE 74
THE WINGS 75
ON A FLY-LEAF OF BURNS'S SONGS ... 77
A DITTY FOR MAY 78
THE QUEST 79
WORLDSONG 81
A TOAST TO RUDYARD KIPLING. ... 82
ONE OLD VETERAN 84
PROLOGUE TO A BOOK OF COLLEGE VERSE . 85
LIFE THE MYSTERY 86
IN THE PAUSES OF THE RAIN .... 87
GRAPES 89
A FUNERAL 90
A SONG FOR SIMPLICITY 91
A WISH 92
YESTERDAY 93
A HUMBLE WISH . . . . .94
ROYALTY 95
A MARCH MOOD 96
LOST KNOWLEDGE 97
To A YOUNG POET 98
STEPS TOWARD FAITH.
THE COMEDY 101
A MOOD OF RESTLESS SPRING . . . .103
THESE OUR LIVES 104
IN THE FEASTING HALL 105
EARTH -MOTHER 106
MYSTERIES 107
xi
CONTENTS.
PAGE
FEAR 109
REMEDY no
SOMEWHILE Ill
MIRACLES 112
VALUES 113
WHAT THEN? 114
A PRAYER OF ONE OF GOD'S CHILDREN . . 115
IF ONLY 116
OCEAN AND BAY . 117
"OPEN UNTO THEIR CRY" 119
THE WAY HOME 120
PARDON'S CROWN 121
A THANKSGIVING 122
ABOVE EVERY NAME 123
JOY'S PILGRIM 124
CHRIST THE RISEN 125
NATURE AND LIFE
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
rfisf.
CUCH hints as untaught Nature yields!
The calm disorder of the sea,
The straggling splendour of the fields,
The wind's gay incivility.
O workman with your conscious plan,
Compass and square are little worth ;
Copy (nay, only poets can)
The artless masonry of earth.
Go watch the windy spring's carouse,
And mark the winter wonders grow,
The graceful gracelessness of boughs,
The careless carpentry of snow !
ON' LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(JJVasquee.
T T OW worse than grief is grief's disguise ! a tear
May calm the heart, the fevered pulses cool,
But sadder than the moans of loveless Lear,
The mock-mirth laughter of his faithful Fool !
Blest tears ! for some have wept themselves to sleep,
But life's loud gaiety what tales it tells !
Only the children laugh (the angels weep)
When dry-eyed Sorrow grasps the cap and bells !
A PASTURE.
$ (pasture.
TJ OUGH pasture where the blackberries
grow !
It bears upon its churlish face
No sign of beauty, art or grace ;
Not here the silvery coverts glow
That April and the angler know.
There sleeps no brooklet in this wild,
Smooth-resting on its mosses sleek,
Like loving lips upon a cheek
Soft as the face of maid or child
Just boulders, helter-skelter piled.
Ungenerous nature but endows
These acres with the stumps and stocks
Which should be trees, with rude, gray
rocks ;
Over these humps and hollows browse,
Daily, the awkward, shambling cows.
Here on the right, a straggling wall
Of crazy, granite stones, and there
A rotten pine-trunk, brown and bare,
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
A mass of huge brakes, rank and tall
The burning blue sky over all.
And yet these blackberries ! shy and chaste !
The noisy markets know no such
So ripe they tumble when you touch ;
Long, taper rarer wines they waste
Than ever town-bred topers taste.
And tell me ! have you looked o'erhead
From lawns where lazy hammocks swing
And seen such orioles on the wing?
Such flames of song that flashed and fled ?
Well, maybe I'm not city-bred.
TO THE AMERICAN POET.
to flje American (poet.
T TNRAVEL all your tangled cheats,
Your triple-twisted thread conceits,
Your subtle sonnets fling afar !
Stand up and show what man you are!
Why linger o'er decrepit shrine
In Hellas or in Palestine?
America as Greece is grand,
America is Holy Land.
The songs of Nile and Jordan's tunes
Our sluggish Mississippi croons,
Lo ! caught in Erie like a gem
The star that shone o'er Bethlehem !
The age young, buoyant longs to hear
Its hopes in music high and clear,
Yet ashes o'er your laurels lie,
You rend your garment of the sky.
O juggler with the fire divine,
O hoarder of God's bread and wine,
Your dark and doleful sprigs of verse
Nod like the plumes above a hearse.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Behold your birthright ! Cast away
The mess of pottage. Scorn for aye
The smirking bravo, thin applause,
Small praise of critics' courts and laws.
Join the great chorus all that sings !
Seize the vast harp of divers strings !
What hands have help'd that growing tone :
Job's, Homer's, Shakespeare's ! Add your own !
We want again the note of joy,
The immortal rapture of the boy,
The flame lit quenchless in the dust,
The lips that sing because they must.
A world of wonders waits its song,
Invention, science, hideous wrong
Heart-smitten by Truth's arrow sharp,
Up, blinded skeptic ! Grasp your harp !
WITH A COPY OF KEATS.
if0 a Cow of
T IKE listless lullabies of twilight seas
Heard from still coves, and soft and sad as
these ;
Such is the echo of his perfect song,
It lives, it lingers long !
Beside his fame Hyperion's lustre pales,
Sweeter his own song than his nightingale's ;
No voice speaks, in the century that has fled,
So deathless from the dead !
How many stately epics have been tossed
Rudely against Time's shore and wreck'd and lost,
While Keats, the dreaming boy, floats down Time's
sea
His lyric argosy !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
$n ($prtf (Jttoob.
ri TO UCH and fly of April moods /
eloquence of voiceless woods /
O alphabet of bird and bee /
O solitude that talked with me !
Lips, ears I prest them to the grass,
1 heard the inner secrets pass,
Yes, heard the plotting sap which flows
Like laughing flame in all that grows.
Conspiracy of fire and force,
Till the Perhaps becomes Of Course,
Till hidden juices upward flow,
And dreams have grown the What We Know !
O warm, bare, nourishing Mother Earth,
Throbbing with veins of health and mirth,
Life is thy promise, life thy plan
Thou breast that sucklest grass and man !
O touch and fly of tameless moods !
O immaterial, priceless goods !
O sweet carousal of the springs
That flow through all the Primal Things /
8
TILDY IN THE CHOIR.
n
that jingle, bars that trip,
* * Songs of dance-hall workmanship -
Leaping with a wanton ease
From high C to where you please,
Loud, irreverent, and gay
Suit the worship of to-day;
But that tune of long ago
Stately, solemn, somewhat slow
(Dear " Old Hundred " that's the air)
Will outrank them anywhere ;
Once it breathed a seraph's fire
(Tildy sang it in the choir).
How she stood up straight and tall !
Ah ! again I see it all :
Cheeks that glowed and eyes that laughed,
Teeth like cream, and lips that quaffed
All the genial country's wealth
Of large cheer and perfect health,
Gown well, yes old-fashioned quite,
You would call it " just a fright,"
But I love that quaint attire
(Tildy wore it in the choir).
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
How we sang for / was there,
Occupied a singer's chair
Next to well, no prouder man
Ever lifts the bass nor can,
Sometimes held the self-same book ;
(How my nervous fingers shook ! )
Sometimes wretch ! while still the air
Echoed to the parson's prayer,
I would whisper in her ear
What she could not help but hear.
Once I told her my desire
(Tildy promised in the choir).
Well, those days are past, and now
Come gray hairs, and yet somehow
I can't think those years have fled
Still those roadways know my tread,
Still I climb that old pine stair,
Sit upon the stiff-backed chair,
Stealing glances toward my left
Till her eyes repay the theft ;
Death's a dream and Time's a liar-
Tildy still is in the choir.
Come, Matilda number two,
Fin de sihle maiden you !
10
TILDY IN THE CHOIR.
Wonder if you'd like to see
Her I loved in fifty-three ?
Yes ? all right, then go and find
Mother's picture " Papa ! " Mind !
She and I were married. You
Were our youngest. Now you too
Raise the same old anthem till
All the church is hushed and still
With a single soul to hear.
Do I flatter ? Ah, my dear,
Time has brought my last desire
Tildy still is in the choir !
ii
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Casffe* in JJpain.
lp\EAR boyhood's conjuries! Dreamlit shores and
plains,
Our castles and our Spains ;
Where suns had never ris'n, moons never set
Stranger than sleep: dome, fretwork, minaret,
Pale, ghostly parapet.
And thro' the marble mist of tower and spire
More fragile than desire,
Our hearts went up as restless as wild birds
And traced the lines of sculptured trees and herds,
And spell'd the artist's words.
Nor were we wonderers wholly desolate
Midst the gray splendours set ;
For vineyards grew thereby ; and half-divine
Flush'd flowerlike faces, rosy-stained with wine,
Press'd lips with thine and mine.
We slept ; how far from all Fear's false alarms
Clasp'd in those white, soft arms ;
We woke; what breath of warm words fanned our
face,
CASTLES IN SPAIN.
Blither than songs the skylark sheds thro' space
From some rapt, far-off place.
We quafFd a liquor the strange name whereof
(The Voices sang) was Love ;
Who drain'd that beaker madness filPd his veins,
Delirious fires and slow seductive pains
What vintages like Spain's !
But now ! but now ! O castles, where are ye ?
Sunk in what dream-strewn sea !
Idle to ask, How did the wonders go ?
We know not even how they came, we know
Only 'twas long ago !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY
(gainfioto
AIT" HEN I was seven or thereabouts the rainbow
filled my fancy,
I dropt my toys and only loved that span of
necromancy ;
A strayaway, a strayaway, I chased the fleeting
wonder ;
And sought beneath the spangled arch the bag of
fairy plunder;
" Ha, ha ! chee, chee ! " the robins laughed, " Oh
see that youngster silly,
He thinks he'll find a pouch of gold, but will he, wil 1
he, will he?"
I scorned the gold of buttercups with raindrops in
their chalice,
Such common wealth could ne'er suffice to line my
fancy's palace ;
" Oh whereaway ? oh whereaway ? " the saucy leaves
kept singing,
"Oh whither now, you dreamy boy?" the boughs
were softly ringing;
But oh, the cat-bird plagued me worst : " You funny
little man you,
You think you'll rob the rainbow bag, but can you,
can you, can you ? "
14
THE RAINBOW BAG.
Oh dear, oh dear ! that fair, fresh year, when I was
prince and poet
And happiest lad alive, altho' I lacked the sense to
know it !
From far away, from far away, where Memory keeps
her voices,
I hear the taunt, You boy grown tall, you've only
changed your choices,
You've named your rainbow something else, you
chase it still for ever,
But you will find the bag of gold oh never, never,
never ! "
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
AIT" HEN the sodden roads were sober,
And the North Wind's gusty breath
Drove the leaves, that late October,
Downward in a dance of death,
How we left the huddled village,
With its maple-shaded street
Red in spite of autumn's pillage
Till the pastures kissed our feet,
Upland acres, wild and sweet.
Withered leaves how dry they crackled
When you swept them with your gown,
Till your willing steps were shackled
In a rustling net of brown ;
Milkweed drift, as light as eider,
Snowing round you, care-free girl,
With your cheeks as brown as cider,
And, by rude breeze toss'd aswirl,
Lovelier locks than art can curl.
How we set that partridge drumming !
Till the silence of the wood
Listened, woke to meet our coming,
And the gray trees understood :
16
ONE OCTOBER.
And we learned the simple fashion
That all country things can teach,
While a subtler tie than passion
Seemed to bind us each to each,
Deeper far than books or speech.
I was just a dilettante
Dapper college Junior then,
Quoting sagely Browning, Dante,
Dobson, and the lesser men.
And I thought myself?*, poet
Fancy that for once was true,
Tho', dear, if you did but know it,
All that made me that was Who?
Oh, you modest mocker, you !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Reasons.
T\ECEMBER filters o'er the fields
From softly-sifting clouds,
She buries Summer tenderly
In white immaculate shrouds;
But through the pale parade of death
Two bosoms keep their June,
Beat with the pulse of music's birth
And tremble into tune.
Then hush ! O happy heart!
O heart, we love her so !
The roses blossom in our thoughts
Tho' all the roads be snow.
June comes once more and leads with her
Her punctual troop along,
Her lilies and her lavender,
Her satire and her song ;
Her hateful swallows sweep the blue
And taunt the souls that sigh,
For every bough she brings a flower,
A wing for every sky.
Then heal, O hapless heart J
O heart, we loved her so.!
The roses clamber up our walls
But all within is snow.
18
THE MODERN RUTH.
(gtobetn
(TO CLARA BARTON.)
"QEATH, the red Harvester, with his hireling
bands,
Leaves the stray reapings for her patient hands ;
May his scythe rust, ere he, enamoured grown,
Shall claim this gentle gleaner as his own !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
TOcmfefc: $ Q&ooft of
(^H, who shall write the voyages down
^ Where dragon-flies set sail and drown ?
Who knows the rigging of the craft
Where fare the fat moths, drunk and daft ?
Oh, come, historian of the sky !
Name us the navies of the fly,
And trace the pathways up the blue
Which Shelley and the skylark knew;
Show us the canvas, gossamer-thin,
Which wafts the dream-boat, Might Have Been,
Fathom the leagues of ether-sea,
And write the Odyssey of a bee !
20
TO A POET WHO LIVES IN THE PAST.
to a $oef TO0o feifce* in fge
S~\ ECHO-GATHERER, why, with servile breath,
Suck the lost music from the lips of Death,
Then, with the^great sounds too familiar grown,
Re-voice dead harmonies as they were thine
own !
Why rob the Masters ? May we not to-day
See all they sang of? Has love waned away?
Has hope? Has faith? Have flowers forgot to
spring ?
Has the sky faded from the bluebird's wing?
Grow eagles lame ? Do larks sing out of tune ?
Doth not fierce Summer drain the cup of noon
Brimm'd with the Sun's blood ? Is June robbed of
wealth ?
Hath veil'd, clandestine Twilight lost her stealth?
Still leaps the Rainbow with her blush of fire
Daughter of Wonder, sister of Desire !
Still sinks the Sun behind the western slope ;
Still sail the fleets of commerce, and of hope ;
Still Mississippi holds her continent-sway;
Still Californian winters mimic May;
Still, proud as Athens, stand the factory-fed
New England towns where toil and learning wed ;
21
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Still, while the metre-mongers haunt the shades,
Fame crowns the Golden Gate and Palisades;
Still, though the Past has perished, stands the
Now,
If thou disdainest her, no poet thou !
LITTLE REBECCAH.
feifffe (JJe6ecca0.
T T ERE is the sampler ; faint and pale
The crewels that were brilliant then,
But still we read the simple tale :
" Wrought bye Rebeccah aged ten."
Beneath a crown of nature's gold
I catch a glimpse of artless grace,
The years draw back and I behold
A small, sweet, pensive, flower-like face.
I wonder what she dreamt about
The while she stitched with patient care,
As through the window-pane without,
The sun slept on the village square.
I keep them now the wool she spun,
Her slippers and the bonnet small,
Her copy-book, left half undone,
The funny harpsichord and all.
And this is something that the folk
Of godly heart had thought a sin.
Ah ! did it seem a fairy's stroke
When she caressed you, violin ?
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Well, here's the end. But if you care,
We'll wander to the quaint old lot,
So small and overgrown and square,
Where friends receive, but know us not.
Beneath the mosses hides the date
Of seventeen-fif ty yes, 'twas then ;
Just read upon the fallen slate :
" Here lyes Rebeccah, aged ten."
COLUMBIA.
Cofumtiia*
TV/TATED to the Millenium, Time's last heir
And proudest daughter, conquerless as he ;
Girdled with lakes like jewels princely fair,
With strong feet planted in the Mexic sea !
Leave dotard empires flames of drunken war,
Be thine chaste hours of labour and increase,
Vineyards and harvests yielding guiltless store,
Toil's bloodless battles on the plains of peace !
Yet when slain Weakness, dying at thy door,
Summoning thy right arm's vengeance, clasps thy
feet,
Thy sword that drinks her murderer's blood is pure
As laughing sickles in the saffron wheat.
Clearing a crimson path where Peace may tread
More safely, thou dost play thy patient part,
Love's pledged ally yea, though thy blade be
red
Thrusting War's weapons thro' his own false
heart.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
U goddess, arctic-crowned and tropic-shod
And belted with great waters, hear our cry
More honest never reached the ear of God :
We'll serve thee, laud thee, love thee, till we die !
TO THE MADONNA.
o ffje
(IN BOTTICELLI'S CORONATION OF THE VIRGIN.)
TTEEDLESS of comforts, innocent of cares,
Thy sweet lips moulded by unnumbered
prayers
To their pure perfectness ; thy calm smile caught
From peasant's ministries and angel's thought ;
Handmaiden of Heav'n's purpose ! with thine
eyes
(Unlearned in worldly lore in love so wise)
Dropped wearily, too heavy with their joy,
And resting gently on the guileless Boy,
Mother of Galilee, thy soft arms hold
A fairer burden than this band of gold
Wherewith the world's heart crowns thee; doubly
blest
Whose meek brow wears love's chaplet, and whose
breast
Holds, on its virginal beauty undefiled,
The crown of all these years, love's self, the
Child!
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
$ree in Winter.
"DENEATH heaven's gaze they stand these
naked trees,
And, unabashed, lift brawny arms on high
In supplication; flouted by each breeze,
The jest and mockery of the earth and sky.
How fair till winter, their Delilah, came,
And on her false white breast in sleep they lay;
Shorn of their beauty now behold their shame !
Despoiled and desolate on a songless day !
28
GRIEF AND JOY.
T T takes two for a kiss,
Only one for a sigh ;
Two by two we marry,
One by one we die.
Joy is a partnership,
Grief weeps alone;
Many guests had Cana,
Gethsemane had one.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
T OVE wove a nest in my heart,
Woe's me, that April day !
And when the summer shorten'd,
She led her brood away.
Those downy singers stirr'd
Such chorus in my breast !
And here I'm left with Memory,
And here's the empty nest I
THE MOON AND THE GIRL.
(gloon cmb f 0e <Birf.
*T*HE moon sagged heavily, as if care
Clung round it ; shrivelled and lean and
bare,
Its face was yellow as her hair.
She stole across the sleeping town ;
Her white cheeks had lost all their brown ;
The heavy night-dews drench 'd her gown.
She sent one glance up where it strayed
Shrunken to thinness of a blade
Almost, yet golden as her braid.
Only a young thing girl as yet,
Though somewhere Grief and she had met. -
(Oh, would that sick moon never set?)
She brushed away her glittering hair
And, having made her bosom bare,
Kissed the white child that slumbered there.
Mayhap this made the moon recall
That Bethlehem group in Joseph's stall
Where it had taught the Star to fall.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Mayhap Herself, the Virgin good,
Leaned over, loved and understood,
Forgave, for joy of motherhood.
Howe'er that be, the young girl soon
Rose quietly (Night had passed its noon),
Across her calm face streamed the moon.
THE BOATMAN: SLEEP.
(Boatman: JJfeep.
T AM the crony of the Dark,
The bosom friend of Death ;
My craft is lighter than a lark,
And silenter than breath.
33
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(Breaf oef Comes.
VI7" HEN the wrestlings of the Race
Shall have grown to an embrace,
And o'er fields that blood has drenched
Hands are clasped that once were clenched,
When the gay laugh of the rich
Learns from poverty its pitch,
Till the music of that mood
Strikes the high note brotherhood,
When no tangling twist of creeds
Cobwebs all our living needs,
And we learn the worth that springs
From the truth of simple things,
When the tunesters of our time
Learn to live before they rhyme,
Burn their sonnets to a star,
Love the brown earth where they are,
Blush for all their small pretence
Soul built 'round with stake and fence,
Pose of knowing more than they
Artless folk who toil and pray ;
34
WHEN THE GREAT POET COMES.
Then, upon the heights of dawn,
With God's beauty clothed upon,
Arm as firm as limbs of Thor,
Lips to Music's heart the door,
Heeding neither laugh nor frown,
Shrill disfavour of the Town,
Jestings in the market-place,
Hatred's fist or Flattery's face,
He shall stand with brow of flame,
As the Hebrew prophets came,
Shouting, as he smites the string,
" In Jehovah's name I sing ! "
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(patriot' g
f~* OD of our sires as of their sons,
^"^ Forgive the frenzied lips that pour
From foolish hearts unceasing store
Of menace threats of forts and guns
And horrid, home-devouring war.
Father of all the souls that be,
Our only source of succour ; Thee
We laud and praise exceedingly !
Ours is the land where fields once red
With brothers' blood are blue with flowers,
No jealous states, no rival powers,
No treason hid in smiles ; our Head
And only King art Thou ! Thine hours
Are Liberty's and Love's; and Thee,
Who settest slaves and peoples free,
We praise and laud unceasingly.
Americans ! we bless the name !
The Britons of transplanted breed.
The fruit of late and lasting seed,
The Saxons of a fadeless fame !
Our watchword Toil, and Peace our creed.
A PATRIOT'S HYMN.
Earth's swords shall rust, but born of Thee
Are Truth and Love and Peace these three,
Children of Thine eternity !
Once alien, now united, sons
Of that staunch Isle that lords the sea,
Our joint-heirs to the Future, ye
Who smile behind your smokeless guns,
Though lion-brood if broils must be,
Join the New Prayer our pledge and plea !
Blood-brothers, vow that Earth shall see
Peace, through the swordless years to be !
Dead is the Despot dead his cause.
This our new danger : Being great ;
This : Boughten chair and candidate,
And Senates plotting peaceless laws
With all the pomp and stealth of State.
Our Founder's God, we turn to Thee
Who only makest wise and free,
Dwelling in Peace immortally.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(Baffeon.
*~PHE galleon, freighter and fighter too,
Sank, sank;
Fat in the hips, and stout of shank,
The lurching Spaniard stove and sank
With the Flanders coast in view.
The galleon, lost with her lusty crew,
Sank, sank;
The staggering sailors never shrank,
And the liquor the drunken sea-dogs drank
Was salter than landsmen brew.
The galleon, scuttled by God knows who,
Sank, sank;
The captain cursed, but his face was blank,
And the old cook, lash'd to a floating plank,
Starved with the shore in view.
The galleon (Mary, pity her crew ! )
Sank, sank;
And the burghers crowded the old sea-bank,
BY
FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES
$
Love Triumphant . . net $1.00
A Book of Poems
On Life's Stairway ... 1.00
A Book of Poems
Thin J2mo, cloth, gilt tops
*$*
DANA ESTES & CO.
Estes Press - - - Boston
By
Frederic Lawrence Knowles
Boston
Dana Estes & Company
Publishers
Copyright,
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
Copyright, 1905
BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY
COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. X intends &> Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S.A.
GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED TO
<ZD.
301253
NOTE.
For the privilege of reprinting the verses entitled
"The Wings" and "The Sculptor," the writer is in-
debted to the courtesy of The Christian Endeavor
World. He also wishes to thank the Century Maga-
zine for the opportunity of including the lines entitled
'Roses."
CONTENTS.
NATURE AND LIFE.
NATURE : THE ARTIST ... i
MASQUES 2
A PASTURE . 3
To THE AMERICAN POET 5
WITH A COPY OF KEATS j
AN APRIL MOOD g
TlLDY IN THE CHOIR 9
CASTLES IN SPAIN I2
THE RAINBOW BAG I4
ONE OCTOBER j5
SEASONS ....... jg
THE MODERN RUTH !o
WANTED: A BOOK OF TRAVELS! ... 20
To A POET WHO LIVES IN THE PAST . .21
LITTLE REBECCAH 23
COLUMBIA 25
To THE MADONNA 2 j
TREES IN WINTER .... 28
GRIEF AND JOY 2y
LOVE'S NEST "30
THE MOON AND THE GIRL 3 i
Iz
CONTENTS.
PAGB
THE BOATMAN : SLEEP 33
WHEN THE GREAT POET COMES 34
A PATRIOT'S HYMN 36
THE GALLEON 38
THE VISION 39
ROSES 40
GOLDIE 41
A BIRTH SONG 43
LOVE'S PRAYER 44
THAT FUTURE DAY 45
To AMERICA 47
STONES 48
LITTLE HEART 49
IN DEATH'S CHAMBER 50
CHANGED 52
THE SCULPTOR 54
ONE WANING MOON 55
THE SOWER 56
METEMPSYCHOSIS 57
TRAILING ARBUTUS 58
A QUESTION FOR POETS 59
I 60
THE FLIGHT 61
A COMMON FLOWER 62
SECRETS 63
AFTER READING ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA . 64
YEARS, HURRY BY! 65
THE LOCOMOTIVE 66
THE MONTH OF MAGIC 67
THE LOST NOTE .68
WISDOM 70
CONTENTS.
PACK
THE QUESTION . 72
THE REAL AMERICA 73
ANCHORAGE 74
THE WINGS 75
ON A FLY-LEAF OF BURNS'S SONGS ... 77
A DITTY FOR MAY 78
THE QUEST 79
WORLDSONG 81
A TOAST TO RUDYARD KIPLING. ... 82
ONE OLD VETERAN 84
PROLOGUE TO A BOOK OF COLLEGE VERSE . 85
LIFE THE MYSTERY 86
IN THE PAUSES OF THE RAIN .... 87
GRAPES 89
A FUNERAL 90
A SONG FOR SIMPLICITY 91
A WISH 92
YESTERDAY 93
A HUMBLE WISH . . . . .94
ROYALTY 95
A MARCH MOOD 96
LOST KNOWLEDGE 97
To A YOUNG POET 98
STEPS TOWARD FAITH.
THE COMEDY 101
A MOOD OF RESTLESS SPRING . . . .103
THESE OUR LIVES 104
IN THE FEASTING HALL 105
EARTH -MOTHER 106
MYSTERIES 107
xi
CONTENTS.
PAGE
FEAR 109
REMEDY no
SOMEWHILE Ill
MIRACLES 112
VALUES 113
WHAT THEN? 114
A PRAYER OF ONE OF GOD'S CHILDREN . . 115
IF ONLY 116
OCEAN AND BAY . 117
"OPEN UNTO THEIR CRY" 119
THE WAY HOME 120
PARDON'S CROWN 121
A THANKSGIVING 122
ABOVE EVERY NAME 123
JOY'S PILGRIM 124
CHRIST THE RISEN 125
NATURE AND LIFE
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
rfisf.
CUCH hints as untaught Nature yields!
The calm disorder of the sea,
The straggling splendour of the fields,
The wind's gay incivility.
O workman with your conscious plan,
Compass and square are little worth ;
Copy (nay, only poets can)
The artless masonry of earth.
Go watch the windy spring's carouse,
And mark the winter wonders grow,
The graceful gracelessness of boughs,
The careless carpentry of snow !
ON' LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(JJVasquee.
T T OW worse than grief is grief's disguise ! a tear
May calm the heart, the fevered pulses cool,
But sadder than the moans of loveless Lear,
The mock-mirth laughter of his faithful Fool !
Blest tears ! for some have wept themselves to sleep,
But life's loud gaiety what tales it tells !
Only the children laugh (the angels weep)
When dry-eyed Sorrow grasps the cap and bells !
A PASTURE.
$ (pasture.
TJ OUGH pasture where the blackberries
grow !
It bears upon its churlish face
No sign of beauty, art or grace ;
Not here the silvery coverts glow
That April and the angler know.
There sleeps no brooklet in this wild,
Smooth-resting on its mosses sleek,
Like loving lips upon a cheek
Soft as the face of maid or child
Just boulders, helter-skelter piled.
Ungenerous nature but endows
These acres with the stumps and stocks
Which should be trees, with rude, gray
rocks ;
Over these humps and hollows browse,
Daily, the awkward, shambling cows.
Here on the right, a straggling wall
Of crazy, granite stones, and there
A rotten pine-trunk, brown and bare,
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
A mass of huge brakes, rank and tall
The burning blue sky over all.
And yet these blackberries ! shy and chaste !
The noisy markets know no such
So ripe they tumble when you touch ;
Long, taper rarer wines they waste
Than ever town-bred topers taste.
And tell me ! have you looked o'erhead
From lawns where lazy hammocks swing
And seen such orioles on the wing?
Such flames of song that flashed and fled ?
Well, maybe I'm not city-bred.
TO THE AMERICAN POET.
to flje American (poet.
T TNRAVEL all your tangled cheats,
Your triple-twisted thread conceits,
Your subtle sonnets fling afar !
Stand up and show what man you are!
Why linger o'er decrepit shrine
In Hellas or in Palestine?
America as Greece is grand,
America is Holy Land.
The songs of Nile and Jordan's tunes
Our sluggish Mississippi croons,
Lo ! caught in Erie like a gem
The star that shone o'er Bethlehem !
The age young, buoyant longs to hear
Its hopes in music high and clear,
Yet ashes o'er your laurels lie,
You rend your garment of the sky.
O juggler with the fire divine,
O hoarder of God's bread and wine,
Your dark and doleful sprigs of verse
Nod like the plumes above a hearse.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Behold your birthright ! Cast away
The mess of pottage. Scorn for aye
The smirking bravo, thin applause,
Small praise of critics' courts and laws.
Join the great chorus all that sings !
Seize the vast harp of divers strings !
What hands have help'd that growing tone :
Job's, Homer's, Shakespeare's ! Add your own !
We want again the note of joy,
The immortal rapture of the boy,
The flame lit quenchless in the dust,
The lips that sing because they must.
A world of wonders waits its song,
Invention, science, hideous wrong
Heart-smitten by Truth's arrow sharp,
Up, blinded skeptic ! Grasp your harp !
WITH A COPY OF KEATS.
if0 a Cow of
T IKE listless lullabies of twilight seas
Heard from still coves, and soft and sad as
these ;
Such is the echo of his perfect song,
It lives, it lingers long !
Beside his fame Hyperion's lustre pales,
Sweeter his own song than his nightingale's ;
No voice speaks, in the century that has fled,
So deathless from the dead !
How many stately epics have been tossed
Rudely against Time's shore and wreck'd and lost,
While Keats, the dreaming boy, floats down Time's
sea
His lyric argosy !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
$n ($prtf (Jttoob.
ri TO UCH and fly of April moods /
eloquence of voiceless woods /
O alphabet of bird and bee /
O solitude that talked with me !
Lips, ears I prest them to the grass,
1 heard the inner secrets pass,
Yes, heard the plotting sap which flows
Like laughing flame in all that grows.
Conspiracy of fire and force,
Till the Perhaps becomes Of Course,
Till hidden juices upward flow,
And dreams have grown the What We Know !
O warm, bare, nourishing Mother Earth,
Throbbing with veins of health and mirth,
Life is thy promise, life thy plan
Thou breast that sucklest grass and man !
O touch and fly of tameless moods !
O immaterial, priceless goods !
O sweet carousal of the springs
That flow through all the Primal Things /
8
TILDY IN THE CHOIR.
n
that jingle, bars that trip,
* * Songs of dance-hall workmanship -
Leaping with a wanton ease
From high C to where you please,
Loud, irreverent, and gay
Suit the worship of to-day;
But that tune of long ago
Stately, solemn, somewhat slow
(Dear " Old Hundred " that's the air)
Will outrank them anywhere ;
Once it breathed a seraph's fire
(Tildy sang it in the choir).
How she stood up straight and tall !
Ah ! again I see it all :
Cheeks that glowed and eyes that laughed,
Teeth like cream, and lips that quaffed
All the genial country's wealth
Of large cheer and perfect health,
Gown well, yes old-fashioned quite,
You would call it " just a fright,"
But I love that quaint attire
(Tildy wore it in the choir).
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
How we sang for / was there,
Occupied a singer's chair
Next to well, no prouder man
Ever lifts the bass nor can,
Sometimes held the self-same book ;
(How my nervous fingers shook ! )
Sometimes wretch ! while still the air
Echoed to the parson's prayer,
I would whisper in her ear
What she could not help but hear.
Once I told her my desire
(Tildy promised in the choir).
Well, those days are past, and now
Come gray hairs, and yet somehow
I can't think those years have fled
Still those roadways know my tread,
Still I climb that old pine stair,
Sit upon the stiff-backed chair,
Stealing glances toward my left
Till her eyes repay the theft ;
Death's a dream and Time's a liar-
Tildy still is in the choir.
Come, Matilda number two,
Fin de sihle maiden you !
10
TILDY IN THE CHOIR.
Wonder if you'd like to see
Her I loved in fifty-three ?
Yes ? all right, then go and find
Mother's picture " Papa ! " Mind !
She and I were married. You
Were our youngest. Now you too
Raise the same old anthem till
All the church is hushed and still
With a single soul to hear.
Do I flatter ? Ah, my dear,
Time has brought my last desire
Tildy still is in the choir !
ii
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Casffe* in JJpain.
lp\EAR boyhood's conjuries! Dreamlit shores and
plains,
Our castles and our Spains ;
Where suns had never ris'n, moons never set
Stranger than sleep: dome, fretwork, minaret,
Pale, ghostly parapet.
And thro' the marble mist of tower and spire
More fragile than desire,
Our hearts went up as restless as wild birds
And traced the lines of sculptured trees and herds,
And spell'd the artist's words.
Nor were we wonderers wholly desolate
Midst the gray splendours set ;
For vineyards grew thereby ; and half-divine
Flush'd flowerlike faces, rosy-stained with wine,
Press'd lips with thine and mine.
We slept ; how far from all Fear's false alarms
Clasp'd in those white, soft arms ;
We woke; what breath of warm words fanned our
face,
CASTLES IN SPAIN.
Blither than songs the skylark sheds thro' space
From some rapt, far-off place.
We quafFd a liquor the strange name whereof
(The Voices sang) was Love ;
Who drain'd that beaker madness filPd his veins,
Delirious fires and slow seductive pains
What vintages like Spain's !
But now ! but now ! O castles, where are ye ?
Sunk in what dream-strewn sea !
Idle to ask, How did the wonders go ?
We know not even how they came, we know
Only 'twas long ago !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY
(gainfioto
AIT" HEN I was seven or thereabouts the rainbow
filled my fancy,
I dropt my toys and only loved that span of
necromancy ;
A strayaway, a strayaway, I chased the fleeting
wonder ;
And sought beneath the spangled arch the bag of
fairy plunder;
" Ha, ha ! chee, chee ! " the robins laughed, " Oh
see that youngster silly,
He thinks he'll find a pouch of gold, but will he, wil 1
he, will he?"
I scorned the gold of buttercups with raindrops in
their chalice,
Such common wealth could ne'er suffice to line my
fancy's palace ;
" Oh whereaway ? oh whereaway ? " the saucy leaves
kept singing,
"Oh whither now, you dreamy boy?" the boughs
were softly ringing;
But oh, the cat-bird plagued me worst : " You funny
little man you,
You think you'll rob the rainbow bag, but can you,
can you, can you ? "
14
THE RAINBOW BAG.
Oh dear, oh dear ! that fair, fresh year, when I was
prince and poet
And happiest lad alive, altho' I lacked the sense to
know it !
From far away, from far away, where Memory keeps
her voices,
I hear the taunt, You boy grown tall, you've only
changed your choices,
You've named your rainbow something else, you
chase it still for ever,
But you will find the bag of gold oh never, never,
never ! "
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
AIT" HEN the sodden roads were sober,
And the North Wind's gusty breath
Drove the leaves, that late October,
Downward in a dance of death,
How we left the huddled village,
With its maple-shaded street
Red in spite of autumn's pillage
Till the pastures kissed our feet,
Upland acres, wild and sweet.
Withered leaves how dry they crackled
When you swept them with your gown,
Till your willing steps were shackled
In a rustling net of brown ;
Milkweed drift, as light as eider,
Snowing round you, care-free girl,
With your cheeks as brown as cider,
And, by rude breeze toss'd aswirl,
Lovelier locks than art can curl.
How we set that partridge drumming !
Till the silence of the wood
Listened, woke to meet our coming,
And the gray trees understood :
16
ONE OCTOBER.
And we learned the simple fashion
That all country things can teach,
While a subtler tie than passion
Seemed to bind us each to each,
Deeper far than books or speech.
I was just a dilettante
Dapper college Junior then,
Quoting sagely Browning, Dante,
Dobson, and the lesser men.
And I thought myself?*, poet
Fancy that for once was true,
Tho', dear, if you did but know it,
All that made me that was Who?
Oh, you modest mocker, you !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Reasons.
T\ECEMBER filters o'er the fields
From softly-sifting clouds,
She buries Summer tenderly
In white immaculate shrouds;
But through the pale parade of death
Two bosoms keep their June,
Beat with the pulse of music's birth
And tremble into tune.
Then hush ! O happy heart!
O heart, we love her so !
The roses blossom in our thoughts
Tho' all the roads be snow.
June comes once more and leads with her
Her punctual troop along,
Her lilies and her lavender,
Her satire and her song ;
Her hateful swallows sweep the blue
And taunt the souls that sigh,
For every bough she brings a flower,
A wing for every sky.
Then heal, O hapless heart J
O heart, we loved her so.!
The roses clamber up our walls
But all within is snow.
18
THE MODERN RUTH.
(gtobetn
(TO CLARA BARTON.)
"QEATH, the red Harvester, with his hireling
bands,
Leaves the stray reapings for her patient hands ;
May his scythe rust, ere he, enamoured grown,
Shall claim this gentle gleaner as his own !
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
TOcmfefc: $ Q&ooft of
(^H, who shall write the voyages down
^ Where dragon-flies set sail and drown ?
Who knows the rigging of the craft
Where fare the fat moths, drunk and daft ?
Oh, come, historian of the sky !
Name us the navies of the fly,
And trace the pathways up the blue
Which Shelley and the skylark knew;
Show us the canvas, gossamer-thin,
Which wafts the dream-boat, Might Have Been,
Fathom the leagues of ether-sea,
And write the Odyssey of a bee !
20
TO A POET WHO LIVES IN THE PAST.
to a $oef TO0o feifce* in fge
S~\ ECHO-GATHERER, why, with servile breath,
Suck the lost music from the lips of Death,
Then, with the^great sounds too familiar grown,
Re-voice dead harmonies as they were thine
own !
Why rob the Masters ? May we not to-day
See all they sang of? Has love waned away?
Has hope? Has faith? Have flowers forgot to
spring ?
Has the sky faded from the bluebird's wing?
Grow eagles lame ? Do larks sing out of tune ?
Doth not fierce Summer drain the cup of noon
Brimm'd with the Sun's blood ? Is June robbed of
wealth ?
Hath veil'd, clandestine Twilight lost her stealth?
Still leaps the Rainbow with her blush of fire
Daughter of Wonder, sister of Desire !
Still sinks the Sun behind the western slope ;
Still sail the fleets of commerce, and of hope ;
Still Mississippi holds her continent-sway;
Still Californian winters mimic May;
Still, proud as Athens, stand the factory-fed
New England towns where toil and learning wed ;
21
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Still, while the metre-mongers haunt the shades,
Fame crowns the Golden Gate and Palisades;
Still, though the Past has perished, stands the
Now,
If thou disdainest her, no poet thou !
LITTLE REBECCAH.
feifffe (JJe6ecca0.
T T ERE is the sampler ; faint and pale
The crewels that were brilliant then,
But still we read the simple tale :
" Wrought bye Rebeccah aged ten."
Beneath a crown of nature's gold
I catch a glimpse of artless grace,
The years draw back and I behold
A small, sweet, pensive, flower-like face.
I wonder what she dreamt about
The while she stitched with patient care,
As through the window-pane without,
The sun slept on the village square.
I keep them now the wool she spun,
Her slippers and the bonnet small,
Her copy-book, left half undone,
The funny harpsichord and all.
And this is something that the folk
Of godly heart had thought a sin.
Ah ! did it seem a fairy's stroke
When she caressed you, violin ?
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Well, here's the end. But if you care,
We'll wander to the quaint old lot,
So small and overgrown and square,
Where friends receive, but know us not.
Beneath the mosses hides the date
Of seventeen-fif ty yes, 'twas then ;
Just read upon the fallen slate :
" Here lyes Rebeccah, aged ten."
COLUMBIA.
Cofumtiia*
TV/TATED to the Millenium, Time's last heir
And proudest daughter, conquerless as he ;
Girdled with lakes like jewels princely fair,
With strong feet planted in the Mexic sea !
Leave dotard empires flames of drunken war,
Be thine chaste hours of labour and increase,
Vineyards and harvests yielding guiltless store,
Toil's bloodless battles on the plains of peace !
Yet when slain Weakness, dying at thy door,
Summoning thy right arm's vengeance, clasps thy
feet,
Thy sword that drinks her murderer's blood is pure
As laughing sickles in the saffron wheat.
Clearing a crimson path where Peace may tread
More safely, thou dost play thy patient part,
Love's pledged ally yea, though thy blade be
red
Thrusting War's weapons thro' his own false
heart.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
U goddess, arctic-crowned and tropic-shod
And belted with great waters, hear our cry
More honest never reached the ear of God :
We'll serve thee, laud thee, love thee, till we die !
TO THE MADONNA.
o ffje
(IN BOTTICELLI'S CORONATION OF THE VIRGIN.)
TTEEDLESS of comforts, innocent of cares,
Thy sweet lips moulded by unnumbered
prayers
To their pure perfectness ; thy calm smile caught
From peasant's ministries and angel's thought ;
Handmaiden of Heav'n's purpose ! with thine
eyes
(Unlearned in worldly lore in love so wise)
Dropped wearily, too heavy with their joy,
And resting gently on the guileless Boy,
Mother of Galilee, thy soft arms hold
A fairer burden than this band of gold
Wherewith the world's heart crowns thee; doubly
blest
Whose meek brow wears love's chaplet, and whose
breast
Holds, on its virginal beauty undefiled,
The crown of all these years, love's self, the
Child!
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
$ree in Winter.
"DENEATH heaven's gaze they stand these
naked trees,
And, unabashed, lift brawny arms on high
In supplication; flouted by each breeze,
The jest and mockery of the earth and sky.
How fair till winter, their Delilah, came,
And on her false white breast in sleep they lay;
Shorn of their beauty now behold their shame !
Despoiled and desolate on a songless day !
28
GRIEF AND JOY.
T T takes two for a kiss,
Only one for a sigh ;
Two by two we marry,
One by one we die.
Joy is a partnership,
Grief weeps alone;
Many guests had Cana,
Gethsemane had one.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
T OVE wove a nest in my heart,
Woe's me, that April day !
And when the summer shorten'd,
She led her brood away.
Those downy singers stirr'd
Such chorus in my breast !
And here I'm left with Memory,
And here's the empty nest I
THE MOON AND THE GIRL.
(gloon cmb f 0e <Birf.
*T*HE moon sagged heavily, as if care
Clung round it ; shrivelled and lean and
bare,
Its face was yellow as her hair.
She stole across the sleeping town ;
Her white cheeks had lost all their brown ;
The heavy night-dews drench 'd her gown.
She sent one glance up where it strayed
Shrunken to thinness of a blade
Almost, yet golden as her braid.
Only a young thing girl as yet,
Though somewhere Grief and she had met. -
(Oh, would that sick moon never set?)
She brushed away her glittering hair
And, having made her bosom bare,
Kissed the white child that slumbered there.
Mayhap this made the moon recall
That Bethlehem group in Joseph's stall
Where it had taught the Star to fall.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
Mayhap Herself, the Virgin good,
Leaned over, loved and understood,
Forgave, for joy of motherhood.
Howe'er that be, the young girl soon
Rose quietly (Night had passed its noon),
Across her calm face streamed the moon.
THE BOATMAN: SLEEP.
(Boatman: JJfeep.
T AM the crony of the Dark,
The bosom friend of Death ;
My craft is lighter than a lark,
And silenter than breath.
33
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(Breaf oef Comes.
VI7" HEN the wrestlings of the Race
Shall have grown to an embrace,
And o'er fields that blood has drenched
Hands are clasped that once were clenched,
When the gay laugh of the rich
Learns from poverty its pitch,
Till the music of that mood
Strikes the high note brotherhood,
When no tangling twist of creeds
Cobwebs all our living needs,
And we learn the worth that springs
From the truth of simple things,
When the tunesters of our time
Learn to live before they rhyme,
Burn their sonnets to a star,
Love the brown earth where they are,
Blush for all their small pretence
Soul built 'round with stake and fence,
Pose of knowing more than they
Artless folk who toil and pray ;
34
WHEN THE GREAT POET COMES.
Then, upon the heights of dawn,
With God's beauty clothed upon,
Arm as firm as limbs of Thor,
Lips to Music's heart the door,
Heeding neither laugh nor frown,
Shrill disfavour of the Town,
Jestings in the market-place,
Hatred's fist or Flattery's face,
He shall stand with brow of flame,
As the Hebrew prophets came,
Shouting, as he smites the string,
" In Jehovah's name I sing ! "
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(patriot' g
f~* OD of our sires as of their sons,
^"^ Forgive the frenzied lips that pour
From foolish hearts unceasing store
Of menace threats of forts and guns
And horrid, home-devouring war.
Father of all the souls that be,
Our only source of succour ; Thee
We laud and praise exceedingly !
Ours is the land where fields once red
With brothers' blood are blue with flowers,
No jealous states, no rival powers,
No treason hid in smiles ; our Head
And only King art Thou ! Thine hours
Are Liberty's and Love's; and Thee,
Who settest slaves and peoples free,
We praise and laud unceasingly.
Americans ! we bless the name !
The Britons of transplanted breed.
The fruit of late and lasting seed,
The Saxons of a fadeless fame !
Our watchword Toil, and Peace our creed.
A PATRIOT'S HYMN.
Earth's swords shall rust, but born of Thee
Are Truth and Love and Peace these three,
Children of Thine eternity !
Once alien, now united, sons
Of that staunch Isle that lords the sea,
Our joint-heirs to the Future, ye
Who smile behind your smokeless guns,
Though lion-brood if broils must be,
Join the New Prayer our pledge and plea !
Blood-brothers, vow that Earth shall see
Peace, through the swordless years to be !
Dead is the Despot dead his cause.
This our new danger : Being great ;
This : Boughten chair and candidate,
And Senates plotting peaceless laws
With all the pomp and stealth of State.
Our Founder's God, we turn to Thee
Who only makest wise and free,
Dwelling in Peace immortally.
ON LIFE'S STAIRWAY.
(Baffeon.
*~PHE galleon, freighter and fighter too,
Sank, sank;
Fat in the hips, and stout of shank,
The lurching Spaniard stove and sank
With the Flanders coast in view.
The galleon, lost with her lusty crew,
Sank, sank;
The staggering sailors never shrank,
And the liquor the drunken sea-dogs drank
Was salter than landsmen brew.
The galleon, scuttled by God knows who,
Sank, sank;
The captain cursed, but his face was blank,
And the old cook, lash'd to a floating plank,
Starved with the shore in view.
The galleon (Mary, pity her crew ! )
Sank, sank;
And the burghers crowded the old sea-bank,
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